


Gravel and Ashes

by evisionarts



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:36:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evisionarts/pseuds/evisionarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River didn’t bother to follow him. She knew the layout of the Library very well. She had stolen away here many times, risking a painful trip through the Shadows to spend hours living another life among the books. He couldn’t hide from her. No matter what, she would find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. THE CITY

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amie33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amie33/gifts).



> This work was written for the River/Doctor AU Ficathon. A sincere thank you to Amie33 for her wonderfully inspiring prompts: library AU / zombie AU and/or Romeo & Juliet AU.

She stalked down the center of the ruined street with predatory grace, weaving her way through piles of broken concrete and mountains of shattered glass. Her head held high, she drew her full lips into a determined line and swept past the spot where he was converted. She swiped at her eyes fiercely, blaming the ever present dust and refusing to say his name. There was no longer any reason to.

She cursed her own weakness as she reluctantly found herself dragged back into the past. She frowned as his final words carved their way back into her thoughts. 

“I can’t live with the silence River.” He had shaken his head as he pulled away from her desperate hands. “I want to forget.”

He looked back at her and raised his hand in a salute as he stepped into the Shadows. 

She wondered what it was like to be swallowed up from the inside out. She shuddered and then forced herself to turn away from memories of shriveled hands and a hungry smile on ravaged lips. 

“Stop acting like an old woman.” River chided herself, setting her jaw and schooling her striking features into a mask of indifference. “Your mission is not to reminisce.”

She was here to find food and she better do it soon or she would be returning to base empty-handed. 

River huffed in exasperation as a strawberry-blonde curl worked loose from its tie and bounced in front of her large, blue-green eyes. Shoving it away she looked up at the hazy, gray sky. It wasn’t that late, if she hurried she might have time to explore a bit before she had to get back.

Keeping to the center of the street she waded through dust and sunbeams. Her gaze swept from side to side, her well-trained body held in a constant state of readiness. There was no sign of Converted. Perhaps they had moved on to search for easier prey outside of gang territory. Still, their forays followed no pattern and one could never be too cautious.

Careful to stay in a path illuminated by early afternoon sun she ran lightly across cracked asphalt and into the crumbling bones of a long, low brick building. The roof had caved in, leaving a wide swath of the interior open to the daylight. She picked her way through shards of tile and piles of splintered plastic. She leapt over any areas obscured by shadows until she stood in a good sized space filled with dusty shelving. She was amazed that a few racks remained upright when most had toppled to the ground long ago. 

Treading cautiously she picked through the debris, smiling gratefully when she came upon a small stack of slightly dented tins. The labels were so worn she couldn’t make out what was inside but she was pretty sure it was food. Reaching into a pocket of her dirt speckled trousers she unfolded a crumpled plastic bag and tossed her finds inside. 

It was unusual to come upon food so quickly, especially these days when most of the city was picked over. But she felt lucky today, like she could do anything, and so she decided to keep looking. River dug carefully through jumbled piles of metal, concrete and dirt. She picked up shattered crockery and mangled plastic and cracked glass jars. She brushed them clean with reverent fingers. 

River supposed she should feel angry at the forgotten past and the people who created this mess and left her to deal with it. But she could never shake the feeling that these bits and pieces were treasures to be studied and preserved – keys to a time and a world just beyond her awareness. So she kept sifting, uncertain what she was looking for, but refusing to give up the search.

Digging through a mash-up of dull and dirty pieces of concrete and wire, she was startled to spot a bright flash of color. Unable to stop a small grin of delight that brightened her whole face as if lit from within, she eagerly pushed away the debris and liberated her prize from the little hollow it had settled into. She carefully removed a last piece of frazzled, corroded wire and gently lifted one shiny red object and then another.

She breathed out a happy sigh, cradling the things to her chest and rubbing at them with the sleeve of her tattered shirt. Each swipe revealed more and more beautiful ruby color along with a sleek and lethal shape. River’s shining eyes widened in recognition - shoes! She had seen similar things on the feet of impossibly clean and graceful women in faded pictures and torn glossy pages. 

They were in amazingly good condition – the indent in the ground they rested in along with the rubble nestled on top had served to keep the intriguing objects safe from the elements. River could not imagine a time when wearing something like this would make sense. Still, she found herself unwilling to toss them aside. She hunted around until she found a long strip of torn vinyl and thoroughly wrapped them and deposited them in her bag atop the tins of food.

She was rising to her feet when she heard them – the tell-tale scrape and shuffle, the low, raw murmur. River gritted her teeth, cursing herself for a fool. She had overstayed her welcome and now the Converted had her scent.

Quickly tying her bag to the belt loop of her trousers, River leapt for one of the taller shelves that still stood amidst the rubble. She scrambled to the top, holding on tightly as the rusty metal swayed beneath her. Looking over the remains of the building, she coughed harshly and wiped at watery eyes as an acrid chemical smell assaulted her senses. There was only one way out of this place and a stinking mess of shambling, petrified bodies was heading straight for her exit.

She hopped down from her perch, landing expertly and taking off through the piles of rubble at a run. She jumped over lengthening pools of shadow, racing for the doorway. River burst into the street just as withered fingers reached for her. She whirled, pulling her blade smoothly from the sheath strapped to her thigh and struck with lightning quick, efficient motion.

Neatly severed hands fell to the pavement. Howling filled the air as her attacker kept moving forward but River had already leapt to the side and was kicking the knees out from under the next Converted in line. She relished the obscene snap of fracturing bone as the creature frantically reached for the screaming body next to it, bringing them both down to the ground. 

River bolted as mewling cries echoed down the street. The Converted ignored her, too busy tearing apart their fallen brethren. She laughed as she ran, adrenaline pumping through her, heart beating wildly. She felt gloriously alive.


	2. THE COMPOUND

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The compound was leveled. He realized in that moment that this place had been home. The people here had at some point become family and he was left standing in the middle of their tomb.

He tried to ignore the random sounds of skittering, scratching and thumping as the soft green glow of his torch illuminated only the first few steps in front of him.  He knew there was no real reason to be afraid, that nothing down here could equal the threats awaiting him above.  

It wasn’t the first time he needed to walk these dark corridors. On the contrary, he was well acquainted with this particular trek. The damn generator went out on a regular basis and he was the only one who could ever get it going again. 

“I’m the Doctor not the mechanic.” He huffed aloud, perfectly aware there was no one around to hear. A slight echo bounced off the moldy basement walls, providing a thin illusion of conversation.  

“Did you hear that?” He said a little louder, “I am the Doctor!” He twirled and imagined strains of heroic music swelling as the sound of his name echoed all around him.

He sobered abruptly. “I’m the idiot.” He muttered, as he shoved his shoulder against the heavy door of the generator room. 

He crossed the floor to a wobbly table, aiming his torch at a small, cracked monitor and rickety keyboard. Backup was still working at least, and after a few sharp keystrokes he was able to access main electrical.  He sighed, brushing locks of long dark hair out of his eyes as he read through the data. 

“Great.” He murmured. “A short in the system – It could be anywhere. One might be down here for hours.”

He grinned, raising his torch to eye level and fiddling with it. “If one wasn’t a certified genius who hadn’t invented this little beauty.”  

Waving  his torch at the walls, he turned in a full circle then flicked his wrist as a schematic appeared in the air before him with a glowing red dot, blinking prominently in the upper left quadrant.

“Aha I’ve got you now.” He said triumphantly feeling a bit put out that no one else was down here to witness his brilliance.

The basement shook slightly as he stepped toward the trouble spot. He stopped and glanced around in surprise when all of a sudden the entire room lurched sideways. The Doctor cried out and stumbled drunkenly. A deafening roar pounded through his head and bits of ceiling and dirt rained down upon him. A sizable chunk of falling machinery struck his forehead a glancing blow and he swore, his questioning fingers coming away slick with blood. Clasping his hands against his ears, he staggered and fell to the ground. He rolled under the table and curled up into a ball, shutting his eyes and shivering. 

He lay there dazed, falling in and out of consciousness as the world continued to scream and shake. He lost all track of time, wondering if this was what life was like now – unceasing sound and movement while lying in darkness.

When the quiet came it shocked him. Groaning, he rose to his knees. He wobbled for a moment and then clutched his throbbing head and painfully climbed to his feet.  Wiping his bloody fingers on his trousers, he fumbled his way past sparking machinery and through the door back into the pitch black corridor. He shoved his hands in his pockets and was thrilled to find his torch. Switching it on, he waved it around in front of him, but the weak beam did little to penetrate the gloom. 

He crept warily through the dark hallway, his shoulder brushing the wall as he coughed and choked on flurries of dust. He buried his mouth and nose in his sleeve, fighting rising panic as it became harder and harder to breathe. 

Sighing in relief, the Doctor found the narrow stairway that led to the next level. Already the air felt clearer and he was able to switch off the torch as a ray of light filtered through the open doorway above. 

He brought a hand to his eyes and squinted into the brightness, gulping great draughts of cleaner air as he emerged into weak daylight. Bracing his hands on his knees, he hunched over and dry heaved into the dirt. Wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his filthy shirt, he finally raised his head. He slowly straightened his back and surveyed his surroundings.

The compound was leveled. He realized in that moment that this place had been home. The people here had at some point become family and he was left standing in the middle of their tomb. 

The silence in the aftermath of his loss was so profound he wondered if his hearing was gone. 

Was he the only one left? That bloody faulty generator had saved his life. Some might say he was remarkably lucky. How many times had he cheated death? It was a miracle he even made it to the compound in the first place. Now a brilliant effort lay in ruins. Yet perhaps there was a sliver of hope. The lab was well-protected, built mostly underground with walls like a vault. At least it gave him a goal. 

There was a lot of open ground between him and his intended destination. He hoped whoever bombed the place decided there wasn’t any point in sticking around. After all, what could survive this kind of devastation? Well obviously he could. Didn’t he always?

The Doctor crept through a maze of splintered wood and concrete, trying not to slip in piles of broken glass. When he came upon the body of someone he knew he averted his gaze. He refused to stop and say good-bye, simply moving on with his jaw firmly clenched.

As he approached the lab his steps faltered. The entrance was blocked by a large pile of rubble. He was not sure he wanted to find out what was behind that door. He paused and then frowned stubbornly and reached for the first piece of concrete, tossing it aside. It was not in his nature to give up. 

By the time the entrance was clear, the Doctor’s hands were raw and bloody. He ignored the pain and wiped his fingers on his tattered shirt, reaching for the lock’s manual over-ride and praying it wasn’t jammed. Much to his surprise the tumblers moved smoothly and the door swung open with a slight groan. The Doctor stuck his head through the opening, shoving blood-matted hair out of his eyes.

He spied a set of stairs illuminated in a soft glow. The lab’s emergency systems were self-contained and apparently still working. 

“Hello?” He called out uncertainly.

Cautiously he descended the steps trailing his fingers along the still-intact railing. 

He soon reached the outer exam room, noting that the door to the lab was ajar. 

“Hello?” He called again. “Anybody there?”

He jumped when an answering groan emanated from within the lab.

The Doctor warily kicked the door open and peered inside. The room was in complete disarray. Equipment lay strewn across the floor, smashed beyond repair. A fire had obviously broken out for the walls were black with ash and soot, though the emergency system must have kicked in before the entire room went up in flames.

He carefully picked his way through the wreckage crying out at the sight of fiery red hair and a twisted body trapped beneath a piece of heavy machinery.

“Donna?” The Doctor’s voice caught as he dropped to his knees and instinctively assessed her injuries. There was little he could do. Donna’s body was too broken, her skin raw and blackened, her once pristine white coat covered with sticky red. Only her lovely face remained relatively unscathed.

She turned pain-filled eyes to his, clutching at him with trembling fingers.

“I know who you are.” Donna coughed, her voice gurgling and wet.

“What?” The Doctor reared back in surprise.

“It’s why I brought you here.” She told him looking up through a watery gaze.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why did you save me?” The Doctor asked softly as he leaned forward, cupping her face tenderly in his hands. “Why would you let me live?”

Donna smiled weakly as she touched the Doctor’s cool skin. “Oh Doctor, for such a brilliant man you are so thick. We’re all war criminals here. “

“I have my own secrets.” She confessed, gritting her teeth and flinching. “I dreamed of them so often, even after I came to this place.”

She choked as tears slid down her cheeks.” Suffer the little children in their plastic bracelets and numbered beds. They were with me all the time, their pale faces living in my head.”

She grabbed his collar with charred hands. “Don’t you dare make their sacrifice mean nothing! You were brought here for a reason. ” She hissed.  “The project is intact. We are not lost.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “How do you …” He began.

“Never mind that!” She snapped. “We can still do this. You must complete our work. Go to the city - to the Library.” 

“You’ll be safe there. You can finish the prototype and carry out the final step.” She continued fiercely. “Swear to me you will do this! Swear you will not fail!”

The Doctor looked away from her hesitating, then sighed and turned back, nodding. “Yes, of course. I promise you Donna, I will fix this.”

“But I’ve never been to the city.” He confided, gently brushing her hair away from her eyes. “How do I find the Library?”

Donna’s answer was soft and labored and he lowered his head, straining to hear.

“The river,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut. “Follow the river. The Library is the heart of the city.”

A thin trickle of blood and saliva slipped from her lips as her breath stuttered and grew shallow. “Let the river lead you to it.”


	3. THE BASE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madame chucked a finger under River’s chin and tilted her head back and forth as if admiring her own handiwork. “Such a good girl – my very best girl.”

River raced past the burnt out remains of trucks and tanks, careening down side streets and cutting through overgrown lots and crumbling towers until she was sure the Converted were not following her.  

She stopped in the middle of a relatively clear red brick courtyard. Standing in a spot of fading sunlight, her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Checking behind her once more, she veered off down a wide alleyway, keeping close to the eastern wall. Graffiti crisscrossed the grimy corridor – red words of warning to leave and forget you ever saw this place. Eerie painted figures with thin wrinkled faces and gaping mouths watched her with malevolent eyes. 

She emerged within a wide, empty car park and crossed it quickly, ducking through a set of glass doors that miraculously remained intact. After taking a winding journey through musty hallways she pulled a set of keys from a hidden pocket and unlocked a door marked “Maintenance Only”. She closed it firmly behind her, lowering an iron bar across it and double then triple checking to make sure it was secured. She ran lightly down a set of cement steps and braced her hands against a sturdy steel door. A sliver of light appeared as a narrow panel slid aside to reveal a gap embedded at eye level. A grim female face peered out, with thin lips framing an unnaturally red tight, pinched mouth, a long narrow nose and a suspicious brown eye. Scarred, puckered and blackened flesh crawled over the other eyelid, fusing it shut.

“The question is asked.” An oily voice oozed through the vent in the door.

River bowed her head. “Silence will fall Madame.”

The panel slid shut and the door was opened just wide enough for River to slip through.

“You’re late.” Madame said immediately as River brushed by her, heading down the short hallway that led to the common area. She spared a curt nod to the three people lounging about the room as she held up her hard-won spoils then headed for the bin in the center of the space. She opened the plastic bag and began to tip it over but a black-gloved hand on her forearm stopped her abruptly.

“There were Converted.” River said defensively, “At the market. I have food.” 

“Keep it Melody Pond.” River stiffened as Madame’s breath caressed the back of her neck. “You’ll need it tomorrow.”

River pulled away from Madame’s touch, bile rising in her throat. She dropped her bag and gripped the hilt of the knife holstered snugly against her thigh.

“Don’t call me that.” Her voice was fierce though shaking as Madame smiled and said nothing, measuring her with an appraising gaze.

“Oh stop teasing her Madame,” A low, mocking voice broke the tension as a wiry young man stepped between the two. A strong and calloused hand grabbed River’s arm and she stumbled and almost fell before being pulled into a tight embrace. 

“What’s wrong River?” Words heavy with warning were breathed into her ear.  “Losing your balance in your old age?”

The sound of harsh laughter filled the room as the other two occupants watched the scene unfold. Their faces were worn and lined, their bodies thin and showing signs of past injury and lack of food.

River raised an eyebrow and smiled as she flipped the man over her shoulder, dropping him to the floor. She whirled and settled her boot against a tender rib. Her eyes raked over the narrow face with skewed nose, scarred chin and close cropped blonde hair.

“It’s rude to comment on a lady’s age, Cleric.” River spoke lightly, “She might take offense.”

Cleric’s lips twitched as his bright blue eyes stared back at her. River winked as she slowly and deliberately removed her foot from his chest. Cleric took the extended hand she offered, bounding to his feet. 

“Get a grip.” He growled in the barest of whispers as he pushed past her, flopping down on an ancient ratty sofa, crossing his arms and glaring at her convincingly.

“Spare me the flirting.” Madame sniffed as any signs of mirth quickly died away. “We have a loner in the city.”

River looked at her in surprise. “Really? How can that be? How could anyone survive alone out there?”

“He’s been spotted.” Madame said firmly, as River laughed in disbelief.

“By whom?” She asked.

“By me.” A short haired, dark-skinned woman in a dirty tunic and ragged leggings rose from her seat on a creaking chair. She stood with fists clenched and legs apart as if bracing for attack. “He came out of the Library and circled it then went back in again.”

“Angel,” River said patiently, rolling her eyes, “That can’t be. No one gets into the Library. It’s surrounded by the Shadows.” 

She glanced fleetingly at Madame’s impassive face then slid back to Angel’s defiant gaze.

“Why were you even out that far?” River wondered curiously. “That’s not part of your range.”

“I know what I saw!” Angel glared at her and sneered. “I was looking for food of course!”

“Everything has been picked over and taken,” She spit out, “I go where I have to so we don’t starve. You have no right to …”

“Enough.” Madame interrupted, sounding like a bored parent. Angel huffed but scurried back to her seat.

“If there is a loner … “Madame began, gazing meaningfully at Angel who dropped her head to scowl at her knees, “Then he is a scout for someone planning to encroach on our territory. That cannot be allowed.”

She turned to River and narrowed her eye. “An example must be made.”

River caressed the hilt of her knife as she nodded grimly. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I know you will Melody Pond.” Madame replied silkily. River stiffened at the sound of that name but remained silent.

Madame chucked a finger under River’s chin and tilted her head back and forth as if admiring her own handiwork. “Such a good girl – my very best girl.”

“Madame,“ Cleric interrupted, “I think we should all go. It’s not safe to send River alone against the unknown. What if he’s not the only one?”

“Take whomever you like,” Madame waved her hand dismissively. “But do not fail me.”

She swept her gaze across wary faces. “You all know what happens to those who fail me.”

She smiled brightly as she strode from the room. “But none of you would ever do that. Only good little children are left now. Sleep well my dears!”

River eyed her retreating form and then wandered over to the lone figure who had said nothing. He was huddled into a corner of the sofa, wrapped in a long, tattered brown coat. He fidgeted restlessly. His feet, encased in dirty trainers, tapped a repetitive rhythm against the floor. 

River sat down beside him, and stroked through his spiky, brown hair gently. He turned and looked past her, his brown eyes flat and lost.

“Has he eaten?” She asked softly.

“Yeah we found some fishy stuff that wasn’t half bad,” Cleric replied indicating a pile of tins. “Still some left if you want it. He seemed to like it OK.”

“Why don’t you tell her how he spit out the pears?” Angel broke in, angrily crossing her arms. “He’s been worthless since we got here. We can’t afford to keep somebody around who wastes food!”

“Spaceman found more tins than you today.” Cleric observed. “And besides, it was worth it just to see the look on Madame’s face.”

“She only keeps him around because he’s River’s pet.” Angel grumbled, glaring resentfully in River’s direction. “You’ve always been her favorite.”

“Yeah Angel you say that like it’s a good thing.” Cleric laughed. 

River took Spaceman’s hand and squeezed it, then let it go with a sigh.

“What we can’t afford,” She said quietly rising from her seat, “Is to fight amongst ourselves. Go to sleep. We’re hunting tomorrow.”

Cleric let out a whoop. “Yes! I’m sick of doing nothing but digging for tins. Let’s show this bloody loner exactly what happens when you enter the territory of the Silents uninvited.”

Angel shot him a crooked grin. “He laughs himself to death over that stupid name?”

“Oi! It’s a great name!” Cleric responded, “You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first!”

“Bed.” River interrupted biting back a smile. “Cleric will you help Spaceman?”

“Yeah, yeah don’t I always?” Cleric grumbled good-naturedly, “Come on Spaceman, the queen has spoken.”

Soon the four were curled up on thin pads, wrapped in worn blankets. River waited until the breathing around her evened out then pulled a small, thin torch and a stub of pencil from one pocket of her discarded coat and a thick blue book from another. Opening it to the first blank page, she carefully listed everything she had done that day, sketching a picture of the intriguing shoes. She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to write down everything she did. It helped her feel grounded, as if not taking note of events would leave her floating weightless, alone and adrift in a universe gone mad. It was only after she completed this task that she was able to close her eyes and allow herself to sleep.


	4. THE RIVER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He remembered trying desperately to ignore the muted voices that sometimes reached him from outside the box. He preferred to believe he was trapped on the other side of reality, where the monster he became was safely contained.

The Doctor took very little for such an arduous trip. But then there was very little left to take. He managed to scrounge up some relatively clean clothes from the mostly-destroyed living quarters after shedding his own blood-splattered ones. He smirked as he caught a glimpse of himself in the last shard of shattered mirror that still clung to a crumpled wall. 

His skinny legs were encased in black denim which in turn was stuffed into a pair of scuffed and scratched brown boots. The shirt was white with thin red stripes. He slung a battered tweed jacket over the whole ensemble and twirled in the middle of the wreckage. Rifling through his newly acquired pockets he was startled to find a long piece of narrow silk. Smiling sardonically he twined it around his neck, tying a perfect bow. 

The Doctor reluctantly scoured the rest of the compound. He packed a sturdy vinyl bag with a few dented tins he dug out of what used to be the kitchen, considering one marked applesauce for several moments before sticking out his tongue and tossing it aside. He combed through the rubble, pocketing a lighter, a tiny red wind-up toy, a shiny metal flask fitted with a purification filter and various pieces of wire and string. He moved quickly, ignoring bodies or anything familiar. This life was over and he would no longer think about it.

On his way out of the compound he returned to the bunker housing the lab. He filled his bag with supplies gathered from the cupboards in the outer exam room until he could no longer avoid returning to the place where Donna’s body lay. He needed to retrieve their work or this journey and his promises to her were worthless. The vials were safe of course – nothing could penetrate that hiding place. They were sunk into the ground, in a box lined with dwarf star alloy, the densest material known to his kind. The lock was his own design, keyed to an encrypted combination of retinal patterns, voiceprint and DNA. No one else could open it. 

The Doctor sat back on his heels as he lifted the lid of the box, peering down at the small leather case lying within. He opened it to find two clear tubes of golden liquid, nestled in foam. Satisfied they were undamaged; he wrapped the case in rags and slipped it into a well padded breast pocket hidden in the lining of his jacket. 

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he exited the compound without looking back. He followed a short, overgrown path through the edge of a dying forest, and came upon a trickling creek he knew would eventually empty into the river. He followed it closely, refusing to let it out of his sight for fear of getting lost amongst diseased trees and tangled brush. 

He stumbled through weeds and rocks and allowed his mind to drift back to his first days at the compound. He didn’t know which faction captured him. He didn’t care. He rode for days in the back of a cargo truck, locked away in a sealed box with only a few small holes to allow him to breathe. He was barely conscious most of the time, lying curled on his side waiting to die. 

He dreamed in the box and those dreams consumed him until he felt betrayed by his own mind. He knew it was his guilty brain’s way of forcing him to confront the final memories of his old life – the one he lived before he ran. He knew – but he didn’t like it.

He shivered in icy air and was reminded of the numbing cold and sterile gray corridors of the Citadel. It had felt like sanctuary for him once – a safe place where he spent long hours locked away in his lab. That cryptic building of endless doors, unidentifiable smells and constant underlying humming was seared into the creases of his soul. 

He relived the day he found the row of tiny occupied beds and tasted the sharp, bile-tainted tang of horror on his dry tongue. His fractured mind flashed back to antiseptic rooms, blank eyed faces hidden behind cotton masks, and small unconscious bodies laid out on steel tables. 

The Doctor did not believe in an underworld. But if he had he would have imagined an unholy cacophony of sound rising and falling with the ceaseless screams of the damned.  

He never dreamed it would be silent.

He was a driven, self-absorbed man and his subsequent dedication to terrorism was impressive. He still felt heat on his face, his lungs laced with the memory of acrid smoke, as he recalled the shock of each explosion tearing through the centers of scientific research and development, the halls of war and the Citadel itself. 

He remembered trying desperately to ignore the muted voices that sometimes reached him from outside the box. He preferred to believe he was trapped on the other side of reality, where the monster he became was safely contained.

When they eventually reached their destination and released him from confinement he had forgotten how to move or speak. He crouched shivering inside his head - lost inside a prison of his own making.

It was Donna who sat with him for weeks on end, too stubborn to let go, fiercely bringing him back to life. She convinced him to breathe again and lured him back into the broken world. The first thing he said to her was that absolution did not exist for him. She surprised him by agreeing. He could not restore the dead or ever hope to heal the bitter, wounded past. Donna held him as he wept and offered him a chance at redemption or at least a small measure of forgiveness, a way to create a better future for the people that were left. 

The Doctor wasn’t sure he believed her. If there was one thing he learned in his time at the compound, however, it was that Donna was very hard to say no to. 

He encountered little resistance in the days he spent following the creek, which led to a stream and then to the banks of a wide, rust-colored river. The people of the compound had chosen their location deliberately, settling in a desolate spot where few dared to venture. The war had claimed these lands and moved on long ago, scouring them thoroughly before finding other targets.  He wondered idly how their hiding place was discovered and by who, not really caring that much about the answer. The deed was done and what mattered was that he kept moving.

He sensed a dangerous change in the atmosphere as he edged closer to the city. The ripe, sweet stench of decay traveled on the wind and the nighttime air was filled with the sound of things scraping and dragging. The river grew murky and forbidding, the copper tinted water deepening to ruby red.

The Doctor was a man who required little sleep and often worked late into the night – compulsive hours spent alone in his lab long after his colleagues retired. Yet even he had to stop and rest sometimes, though he was feeling increasingly less comfortable with his surroundings. 

He was within sight of the jagged remains of crumbling city towers when the combination of nightfall and exhaustion forced him to make camp. He came upon a wide sandy beach bordered by a short cliff on one side and water on the other.  The river was wide and lazy within its banks, trickling softly over the remains of past battles - the tortured metal and scrap of dead war machines. The Doctor tried not to look too closely at what lay visible beneath the current.

He dropped his bag to the ground, propping his lanky body against a large rock. He stayed as far away from the water as possible, something about it making him nervous as he approached the city limits. 

He pulled his knees to his chest and wearily laid his head upon them, trying not to think about anything and failing miserably. He felt increasingly uneasy and decided he was only going to close his eyes for a minute before pushing on.

The Doctor’s head snapped up and he stared into the gray light of approaching dawn. He breathed heavily, the weight of his dreams threatening to crush and overwhelm him. He shook his head to clear it, wrinkling his nose at a harsh, chemical odor emanating from the direction of the water.

He climbed to his feet, cautiously stepping close to the edge of the bank and looking down. The river was even darker now, a filmy charcoal-gray slick oozing across the waves with strange shapes barely visible beneath the surface. 

The Doctor jumped back in alarm as a desiccated hand broke through the swirling water, and then another and another.  He grabbed his bag and flung it across his back as he ran, keeping as close to the cliff face as possible. 

Looking back he saw wasted bodies with pronounced ribcages and parched gray skin crawling out of the water. They shuffled towards him with arms outstretched and fingers clutching at the air in front of them. While they were surprisingly fast given their appearance he was fairly sure he could outrun them. Breathing a sigh of relief he turned his head back to the path in front of him and spied the first ravaged, grasping hands emerging from the water ahead. He put on a burst of speed but they kept coming, so many of them. He suddenly realized what the wreckage hidden within the river was. He was witnessing the return of the crew and cargo of a crashed transport carrier – hundreds of crazed Converted desperate to feed their hunger. 

His pace slowed as the swarm of Converted ahead of him stopped and crowded against a creeping patch of black that emerged from a gap in the cliff side and devoured the sand on its way to the water. He’d never seen one of the Converted step into the Shadows.  The ones he’d encountered before had always avoided it just like everyone else.

He watched in grim fascination as one was pushed into the inky path by others shoving from behind. The creature stood there for a moment swaying and then flung its sunken head back and wailed. It disintegrated from the feet up as if a host of tiny organisms were eating it alive. 

The Converted stumbled back, falling over each other to get away from the deadly spot. The Doctor hesitated at the edge of the Shadows as the Converted howled, staring at him from across the blackened patch of ground and stalking him from behind. He turned and watched as a horde of shambling, calcified, desperate bodies closed in on him. Smiling slightly he stepped backwards. 

The Doctor screamed as sharp, searing pain burned through the soles of his feet and up into his legs. He wrenched his body around forcefully and staggered through the gap in the cliff face. He entered a narrow passage, snapped his torch from his pocket and splayed its beam across rocky walls. A small alcove appeared to his right and he dragged his feet out of the Shadows to collapse inside it. He fell to his knees and trembled with shock.

The Doctor leaned against a damp wall, allowing his breathing to calm and the shaking to subside. He sat up and removed his boots and rolled his trousers up to inspect the damage curiously. His pale skin was a fiery red and mottled with deep purple bruising but the intense pain was fading. He sighed heavily, wiggling his toes and running his hands through his hair. 

The howling of the Converted outside was deafening. They screamed and fought among themselves, pushing a few more bodies into the ravenous Shadows before forgetting about anything but their own abiding hunger and milling about aimlessly on the beach. One of them lifted its crumbling face to the wind as if scenting something. Detaching itself from the group, it lurched in the direction of the city. 

Another followed and then a few more, until they spread out along the riverbank creeping steadily toward the towers in the distance. The Converted on the other side of the Shadows flailed and roared, pacing back and forth along the perimeter. The ones closest to the barrier stretched their arms out over it grasping blindly, then tumbled forward as if pulled helplessly by an invisible string. They fell into darkness, their howls swallowed up as they disintegrated into the sand. As each one disappeared they were replaced by another. Soon all of them were gone.

The Doctor emerged a short while later, careening back through the Shadows, biting his lip until it bled. He tripped and fell back onto clear sand, panting heavily for several minutes until his blurring vision cleared and his legs stopped trembling. He painfully climbed to his feet and stumbled towards the city. 


	5. THE STREETS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh no you don’t.” She growled furiously. “The Shadows don’t get to have you before I do. You’re the first person I’ve seen who can survive in here besides me and you’re going to explain why or I’ll kill you stone dead!”

River jogged through the ruins, her team spread out behind her, the weak sun warming her back. She paused at an intersection clogged with the rusty remains of crumpled trucks and battered tanks; searching for a way through while avoiding any areas obscured by shadows.

“Taking the scenic route?” Cleric grinned as he came up behind her.

“This could take hours!” Angel complained, as she and Spaceman joined them. “Are you actually planning on getting to the Library sometime today?”

“You’re welcome to take a more direct route as long as you don’t mind meeting up with the Converted who cornered me in the market yesterday.“ River frowned and brushed back unruly curls.

“They cornered you?!” Angel exclaimed gleefully, “You didn’t tell us that! How did the great River get caught out by a group of bloody Converted?”

“Because I was distracted and acting like an idiot!” River shot back, rounding on her. “Learn from my mistakes or die from them. Your choice.”

“Um, hate to interrupt,” Cleric said, pointing at Spaceman who was already halfway across the intersection, leaping from battered roof to crumpled turret, “But I think someone’s figured out the best way across.”

“Damn it!” River muttered, “We need to stay together. Come on!”

“Why did you even bring him along?” Angel groused as they climbed through the wreckage, following a surprisingly agile Spaceman as he scrambled over the twisted metal hulks.

“Maybe we should have left _you_ alone with Madame.” Cleric winked as Angel stuck her tongue out at him. “Oh, very mature.”

“Wait.” River stopped and held up a hand. “What is that?”

“Are you hearing things now?” Angel asked though she halted and looked around nervously.

“I don’t …” Cleric began, his words dying as the sound of scraping and rustling came from within the pile of debris they stood upon. 

“Spaceman stop!” River called out to the lonely figure far ahead of them. Spaceman turned and looked back at them, his head cocked to the side.

“No. Please.” Angel whispered as she watched a withered gray hand rise from beneath the wreckage and latch on to an unsuspecting ankle.

“Spaceman!” River screamed, lunging forward as Cleric grabbed her arm pulling her towards him.

“You can’t help him now!” Cleric growled as River fought against his grip, watching in horror as more hands rose from beneath the pile of rubble and grabbed Spaceman. He struggled for only a moment and then closed his eyes and tossed his head back. He flung his arms out to the side as if offering himself to forces beyond his control and laughed as he disappeared into the wreckage.

“Go back.” River ordered, the expression on her face unreadable.

“They took Spaceman.” Angel said tearfully.

River turned her head away and squinted up at the cool, gray sky. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters!” Angel glared furiously at River’s stiff back.

“Come on.” Cleric let go of River and reached for Angel’s hand. “We need to get out of here.”

“Touch me and I’ll break your worthless neck.” Angel hissed fiercely through gritted teeth, climbing back the way they came. 

Cleric shrugged and hurried after her. 

River followed closely behind, ignoring the silent black-clad figure with the ruined eye watching them from behind a tumbled down wall. 

They skirted the intersection, spending hours searching for a safe path, ducking down narrow streets and always staying in the sun.

At last they came upon a wide, round plaza of gray slate, ringed with the skeletal remains of a decrepit outdoor mall. A man-made island stood in the center of the circle, surrounded by a pond of murky water that was fed by a channel leading to the river. A single narrow bridge spanned the moat and led to a strikingly beautiful deep blue tower. The structure was well preserved, presiding over the ruined city like an ancient, sleeping guardian waiting to be awakened.  
A pool of Shadow lay at the building’s edge, encircling it completely. 

Cleric, Angel and River cautiously surveyed the large open area before them.

“What do we do now?” Cleric asked, removing a flask from his pocket and sipping thoughtfully, “It’s not like we can get in.”

“We wait.” River told him. “If there is someone in there, they’ll have to come out some time. Start looking around for a good place to hide.”

Cleric moved away as Angel grabbed River’s arm. “I did see someone! It was a man and he came out of the Library!”

River’s body went rigid but then she gulped a deep, steadying breath and lightly placed her hand upon the other woman’s.

“I believe you.” She squeezed Angel’s fingers briefly before allowing her hand to fall. 

“Oh!” Angel fumbled, stepping back. “I – oh – OK. Why?”

“Because,” River answered, grinning slyly, “I’ve been inside the Library.”

“What?” Angel looked at her in shock. “That’s impossible! If that’s true – why don’t we just go in now?”

“I can’t take you with me.” River explained, “I don’t think you’ll make it through the Shadows. And I don’t fancy leaving you two alone when I don’t know who else is out here.”

“But how come you can …” Angel’s argument was cut short as a single, keening cry filtered through the air.

“What was that?” She breathed, turning in a circle and searching frantically for the source of the scream.

“I don’t know.” River pulled her knife from its sheath and held it in front of her. “Where’s Cleric?”

“I don’t know!” Angel snapped and flipped her own blade into her hand, “He was going to look for a place to hide!”

“Shh!” River warned. “Listen!”

The quiet of the plaza broke with the sound of shuffling footsteps and tortured muttering. A chemical stench oozed through the air.

“Damn it - Converted!” Angel swore, “We’ll be trapped in here!”

“Stay at my back!” River told her, “We’ll cover each other. They’re not exactly bright; if we stay together we can get out of this.”

“No.” Angel grabbed River’s shoulder and shoved her away. “I can’t. But you can. You said you can get into the Library. I don’t know how that’s possible, but go. They can’t follow you there.”

“I’m not leaving you alone!” River fixed her with an angry glare.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Angel whispered furiously as the first Converted shambled into the Plaza. “Save yourself!”

“Do you ever stop arguing?” River asked gripping her knife and preparing for battle.

“No!” Angel laughed and leapt toward the Converted.

River followed with a mad grin, cutting through the swarm of petrified bodies as they grasped and howled at her. She fought like a wild thing, ripping and tearing with her blade, kicking and punching and screaming out her rage. She lost sight of Angel in the melee and whirled frantically searching for her. 

“Angel, where are you?!” She cried out, severing limbs and heads as she forced her way through the Converted in the direction Angel had gone. She gasped as she spotted the woman, bloody hands hiding her face, being dragged by the hair toward a patch of darkness creeping from a sheltered doorway.

River backhanded a face, dove under an outstretched arm and kicked the legs out from under another shambling body as she ran towards Angel. At the last second she leaped and shattered the air with a piercing cry. She straddled Angel’s body and plunged her blade into the side of the Converted’s throat and sliced through putrid flesh, leaving its head dangling from a thread of waxy skin. The thing collapsed and she kicked its twitching body aside. 

She heaved a sobbing Angel up and into her arms.  River held the woman tight against her side as she flashed her blade at the mob of Converted surrounding them. She swiped fiercely at one and kicked away another as she dragged Angel past them but was halted choking and gasping as rigid fingers seized the back of her neck.  A strong shove sent both of them tumbling into the Shadows.

River ignored the pain as she fell to her knees in the darkness. The sound of Angel’s weeping drifted past her then shriveled up and died away. 

She shook her head wildly and lashed out blindly at the sensation of something reaching deep inside her and twisting. She felt herself hollowing as her life was drawn slowly from her protesting body. 

“Not today.” She swore and with an enormous effort climbed to her feet and stepped back out of the Shadows.

The Converted had moved away, unaware that River was not now one of them, leaving a clear space around where she stood. She flinched as a dry hand brushed against her and the thing that had once been Angel emerged beside her.  It shuffled forward on spindly legs, its gray, mummified fingers still covering its face. Suddenly it stopped, removed its hands and lifted its head to the wind. It turned milky eyes in River’s direction and howled.

River sprang away as more Converted stumbled toward her.  Punching, kicking, diving, rolling and roaring she fought her way ferociously across the plaza to the foot of the bridge. The Converted kept coming, more and more of them filing into the limited space. She felt herself tiring, her strength draining from her body, her fingers cramping around her knife.

She ran desperately, only one Converted standing between her and the narrow bridge. The creature mocked her with the echo of a familiar face. The monster that once was Angel groaned, its petrified flesh drawing its lips back into a hideous parody of a smile. River was shocked into inaction for only a second but it was enough time for the obscene thing to grab her arm with bone-crushing strength.

River cried out as the air was shattered with a high-pitched, nerve-jangling squeal. The Converted froze instantly, trapped in the midst of whatever action they had taken.

“Ha! I knew I could do it!” A gangly man sporting a ratty tweed coat and absurd bow tie stood in the Shadows on the other side of the bridge. He bellowed as he brandished what looked like a thin silver torch, waving it all around him. “The sonic setting only works for a short time! Hurry!”

River worked desperately to extricate herself from the Converted’s iron grip. She pried at the rigid fingers, pulling her wrist so hard she heard it crack further. She gasped at the searing agony of bone grinding against bone.

“You get yourself free!” The man yelled at her over the ear-splitting sound.

“How?!” She retorted just as the noise abruptly stopped. She gave one last pull as the Converted’s arm went momentarily slack.  River hissed in pain as the man grabbed her hand tugging her into the Shadows with him. He paled and promptly collapsed. 

River glared down at him.

“Oh no you don’t.” She growled furiously. “The Shadows don’t get to have you before I do. You’re the first person I’ve seen who can survive in here besides me and you’re going to explain why or I’ll kill you stone dead!”

She grabbed the collar of the man’s ridiculous coat with her good hand, the injured one hanging limply by her side. Grunting and swearing she dragged him across the ring of Shadows and through the Library doors. She dropped his body carelessly on the wide marble stairs leading down into the main room.

Her chest heaved as she sank down onto the steps beside him. The Converted screamed and flailed from the other side of the Shadow barrier.


	6. THE LIBRARY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River didn’t bother to follow him. She knew the layout of the Library very well. She had stolen away here many times, risking a painful trip through the Shadows to spend hours living another life among the books. He couldn’t hide from her. No matter what, she would find him.

The man lay unmoving as River leaned over him, pressing an ear to his lips. He wasn’t breathing. 

She swore, shaking him then cradling his head in her hands. Bringing her mouth to his, she breathed into him steadily again and again. 

She smiled when he moved underneath her, his arms flailing as if he didn’t know what to do with them. 

“No … what are you doing?!” He spluttered.

“Saving your miserable life.” River snapped sitting back on her heels. “I regret it already.”

She moved away from him and stood only to fall back to the steps as a wave of dizziness overcame her.

“Are you alright?” The man asked sitting up and eyeing her with concern.

“I’m fine.” River hissed, her breathing ragged and loud.

The man gazed at her suspiciously, eyes widening at the bruised and bloodied wrist River cradled in her lap.

“Why did you lie to me?” He asked gruffly. “You’re hurt. Come here.”

He took her arm quite tenderly, cradling her hand in his own. River looked away from him, trying to hide her grimace of pain.

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a clear vial of golden liquid. He uncapped it with his teeth and poured it over River’s skin.

“No! Stop! Stop that!” River cried as the liquid separated into tiny golden orbs of glowing energy, sinking into her skin. She trembled as she felt the bones knitting, the wounds on her arm sealing themselves shut.

“There you go.” The man smiled at her. “How’s that?”

River’s eyes hardened and she wrenched her hand from his grasp.

“Let’s test it shall we?” She ground out, hitting his cheek with a resounding slap. “Who are you and what did you just do to me?”

The man eyed her warily, rubbing at the red mark on the side of his face.

“I’m the Doctor,” he told her sounding very annoyed, “and in case you didn’t notice I just fixed your wrist!”

“A doctor.” River spat the word out as if it were poison. “I should have known. And who the bloody hell asked you to?”

They sat in silence glaring at each other.

“Doctor what?” River finally asked, hunching over and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Just the Doctor.” He replied, ducking his head and peering at her from beneath the cover of his dark fringe. “And you are?”

She looked at him strangely, as if he didn’t make sense. 

“Just River.” She answered frostily.

He stared at her but said nothing, only nodding.

“They are nanogenes.” He ventured after a few tense moments.

“What?” River asked, raising her head and turning towards him.

“What I used to heal your wrist - subatomic robots that repair damage at a cellular level.” He explained.

“They’re cool.” He informed her. “They can’t hurt you.”

“Everything can hurt you.” River snapped.

The Doctor sighed. “Dinner?” he asked, rising to his feet and flinging himself down the stairs.

River watched him curiously, unable to quite figure out exactly how his gangly limbs worked.

“I have my own food.” She sounded cross as she followed him into the large main room. “I don’t need anything from you.”

She stepped into the center of the space, unable to stop the curl of her lips into a brilliant smile. The room was lined with shelves, and hundreds if not thousands of books were stacked upon each one. 

She stilled as the Doctor’s gaze fell upon her. She refused to back down from his intense stare and noted that his long, sharply drawn face was smooth and quite youthful. Yet his hazel eyes were guarded and imprinted with age.

“Ah …” he said rubbing his hands together and fidgeting, his mood shifting swiftly, “Yes, but I bet you don’t have anything as good as what I’ve found.”

He spun quickly, barely managing to keep his balance, and strode down a hallway as if expecting her to follow. Which she did of course, but only because she certainly didn’t trust him and wasn’t about to let him out of her sight. 

He disappeared into a side room and she lingered in the doorway, crossing her arms and leaning against the frame. He ignored her, rummaging through a pile of green metal boxes lumped in a corner and grinning with delight upon finding the ones he sought.

“Sure you won’t join me?” The Doctor inquired, throwing his choices onto a dusty table and pulling up a rickety chair. “The cuisine here is superb.”

River didn’t answer, continuing to watch as he twisted a little key on the top of each box, prying them open and whiffing them around under his nose.

“A singular bouquet.” He smiled, stealing a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. “You really should try it.”

Placing the boxes back on the table, he removed a squat rectangular brownish shape from one and trawled it through the yellowish glob that sat in the other. He took a big bite, munching with great satisfaction.

“That looks disgusting and smells worse.” River commented, wrinkling her nose.

“Ah well,” The Doctor said quietly not looking at her, “There’s no accounting for taste.”

He continued eating, studiously ignoring River as she fidgeted in the doorway. Finally she walked into the room, untied her plastic bag from its belt loop and placed it on the table. She grabbed another chair, sitting opposite the Doctor.

Reaching up, she removed the wire tie she used to hold back her hair, shaking her head as her strawberry-blonde curls flew wildly around her face.

The Doctor watched mesmerized. “Nice hair.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Finding himself gripped by the throat, he swallowed painfully, peering cross-eyed at the blade in front of his face. River had lunged across the table and while he was definitely feeling the gravity of the situation he couldn’t quite dismiss the rather spectacular view down her shirt. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks among other places and told himself that was almost certainly due entirely to the constriction of his airway.

“Try anything,” River hissed, “And you will find out I was born to kill you.”

“Yes dear,” he croaked, realizing that her eyes were quite amazing up close – a sparkling blue-green that flashed magnificently when angered.

River let him go and settled back in her chair, sheathed her knife and grinned at him cheerfully.

“Well then,” she stated as she opened her bag and peered inside, “It’s nice to have that settled.”

The Doctor watched dourly, rubbing the front of his neck as she pulled out a couple of tins, and a lump of something entwined in dirty white vinyl.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, her eyes lighting up while her mouth widened into a lovely grin, “I completely forgot these were in here.” 

She removed the outer wrapping, laying two bright red objects in the middle of the table.

“What do you think?” She asked, gazing at the Doctor seriously.

He sputtered in surprise. 

“Are those shoes?” He licked his lips, reaching out a finger to stroke the tip of one.

River nodded, smiling proudly at him as if his knowledge had impressed her.

“What else do you have in there?” The Doctor wondered aloud, “A ball gown?”

River laughed unexpectedly and he shivered at the throaty sound.  

“No,” She replied, popping the tops off her tins and sniffing. “Let’s see … beans and …  
“Applesauce!” She beamed in delight.

The Doctor pulled a disgusted face, as River giggled.

“As you say …” She winked at him, “No accounting for taste.” 

She tilted the tin of applesauce into her open mouth, swallowing happily.

The Doctor stared, as if he had never seen anything like it in his life.

“Well,“ He said rising nervously and clearing his throat, “I’ll leave you to it then.” 

“You’re going?” River asked incredulously. “Aren’t you the least bit curious to find out who I am?”

“Oh you know how it is when you’re trapped in a library surrounded by Converted,” The Doctor responded quickly, “Busy, busy, busy.”

And with that he spun on his heel and ran out of the room.

River didn’t bother to follow him. She knew the layout of the Library very well. She had stolen away here many times, risking a painful trip through the Shadows to spend hours living another life among the books. He couldn’t hide from her. No matter what, she would find him.

River finished her dinner at a leisurely pace. She withdrew her blue book from the pocket of her coat and sat for a while, sketching a surprisingly accurate picture of the Doctor’s face. She then repacked her bag and wandered back into the main room to peruse the shelves of dusty books. She took her time, idly picking out whatever caught her eye, reading a bit then replacing her choice respectfully and moving on to another. 

She occupied herself for quite a while, patiently waiting for the Doctor to reappear. When he did not, she hummed thoughtfully and went to find him. 

The Library was much larger on the inside than its exterior implied. It consisted of several levels, filled with books, artifacts, offices and workrooms. Wide, airy balconies ringed each floor, with a staggered line of tightly spiraling staircases leading up to each one. River found him on the third level, locked behind the door of a sizable conference room. She removed the thin sliver of metal she kept tucked away in her boot and reflected upon how ridiculous it was that he felt he could hide from her. The door was open in moments.

“Hello Sweetie!” She called out gaily as the Doctor started in surprise. 

“What’s this?” She asked, her eyes narrowing as she took in the makeshift lab set up on a long, narrow table.  
She investigated a delicate piece of equipment she had never seen before, marveling at the intricacy of it. “What are you doing?”

“Saving the world.” The Doctor answered crossly, folding his arms and brooding. “How did you get in here?”

“From what I’ve seen it hardly seems worth it.” River commented, plopping down in a padded office chair, and swiveling back and forth.

Her hair gently wafted around her face as she moved and the Doctor found it very distracting.

“Nevertheless,” he said finally, tearing his eyes away, picking up an empty test tube and fiddling with it, “That’s what I’m here for.”

River watched his hands and licked her lips.

“Sweetie,” She purred, “You really shouldn’t play with your equipment like that.”

The Doctor promptly dropped the test tube, jumping back as it shattered against the top of the table.

“Look what you made me do!” He huffed, glaring at River.

“I didn’t make you do anything!” River shot back immediately, rising from her chair and stalking her way over to him.

He was much taller than she was and she stood on tip-toe to peer into his face. “I can’t help it if you’re a clumsy idiot!”

She blinked in surprise when the Doctor grinned then laughed out loud. “No,” he agreed. “I guess you can’t.”

River stepped back and surveyed the equipment on the table. She ran her hand across the apparatus, peered into dishes and vials and leaned over to study a pad of yellowed paper filled with formulae and equations. She frowned.

“You’re not from a gang.“ River said fixing him with an accusatory look, “Who are you? Why are you here?”

The Doctor flopped down into a chair, running his fingers through his hair and sighing wearily. “No I’m not. You wouldn’t understand …”

“You’re engineering a virophage.” River replied, waving a hand at him dismissively as her eyes scanned the paper. “And your calculations are off.”

“Oi!” The Doctor looked up at her clenching his jaw. “There’s nothing wrong with my calculations! Wait. What?”

“This isn’t going to work.” River continued, running her finger across his notes.“The host virus is too strong. The virophage will just die out.”

“I know that.” The Doctor voice was low and dangerous as he came up behind her and breathed into her ear. “The question is how do you?”

River slowly turned and found herself pinned to the table between the Doctor’s arms. He regarded her seriously, his expression dark and searching. 

Calmly she reached for her blade only to find it no longer there. 

She smiled up at him. “Spoilers.” She whispered in a low, gravelly voice full of promise, and kissed him.

She might have laughed when she heard her knife hit the floor as his arms shot up flailing around her. She might have dropped to the ground, picked it up and whirled, plunging it into a vulnerable part of his anatomy. 

But she didn’t. The instant her mouth touched his everything shifted. He tasted like potential, and it shocked her. It wasn’t until they parted, both gasping for breath, that River realized his hands were now buried in her hair.

“You have to go.” He said, pressing his forehead to hers. “It isn’t safe here. You’re surrounded by monsters.” 

He pulled away, bent down, picked up her knife and handed it to her.

River felt a moment of confusion, tracing a finger up and down the blade and considering him. 

“I’m here for one purpose.” She told him finally. “I’m here to kill you.”

“I figured.” The Doctor replied, scratching his cheek and shrugging. “You could have done it by now. Why haven’t you?”

“Why would you let your assassin go?” River countered.

“You’re clever,” he replied, gesturing at the lab setup, “Maybe you could find something else to do with your time.”

His breath hitched as her lips curled into a sultry smile. “I can help you with the virophage.”

“Oh no, absolutely not.” The Doctor objected vehemently, raising his hands as if to ward her off, “That is completely out of the question.”

Hours later as they sat together at the table, arguing over his calculations for the hundredth time, the Doctor tried to figure out exactly how he acquired a lab partner. He vividly remembered standing in the doorway while they shouted at each other. Somehow over time they ended up closer and closer to the table where she picked up his notes and rudely insulted his reasoning once more. At that point it only made sense to sit down while they were bickering as it really had been quite a long and eventful day for both of them.

“This is ridiculous.” The Doctor huffed in exasperation throwing up his hands. “You’re arguing with me when you don’t even know what I’m trying to do!”

River leaned back and folded her arms, blowing a curl out of her face. “You’re trying to destroy a virus by inhibiting its reproductive capability with an engineered virophage. The virophage acts like a parasite …” 

“Yes, yes I know. I don’t need a lecture on my own experiment.” The Doctor muttered, pulling at the lapels of his tattered coat.

River grinned up at him. “It’s simple really.”

“No,” The Doctor declared, his gaze wary, “It’s really not. Who are you River?”

“Who are you?” River shot back. “You’re the one holed up in the Library conducting viral warfare.”

“This is my city,” She crowded the Doctor’s space and peered angrily into his eyes, “And I won’t let you use it as a testing ground.” 

“Testing ground?!” The Doctor sputtered, outraged, “I’m here to save your precious city not destroy it! And you’re awfully concerned all of a sudden for someone who was dismissing the entire world a little while ago.”

“Yes, well,” River looked away. “It’s all I’ve got.”

She shivered as the Doctor hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder.

“River,” He pleaded, “I know you have no reason to but I need you to trust me. I’m here to help.”

“Can I trust you?” He asked, his voice faltering.

River looked back at him and smiled. “Oh Sweetie,” she purred, “Where’s the fun in that?”

Both of them stilled at the sound of scraping and dragging rising from below. A harsh, acrid odor filtered in through the open door. 

“That’s impossible.” The Doctor replied to River’s wide eyed stare.

River pushed past the Doctor, racing out the door and leaning precariously over the edge of the wide balcony. 

“How impossible?” She breathed as the Doctor came up beside her.

They peered down into the main room, watching it fill with a milling swarm of Converted. A pool of Shadow circled the main level, blocking the Converted from climbing the stairs but the door to the outside was clear.

“Well, that’s … unexpected.” The Doctor said thoughtfully.

“Yes,” River replied glaring at him, “How fascinating that the Shadows have apparently learned how to move. You might even say they were chasing us.”

The Doctor ran his hand through his hair sheepishly. “I admit my experiments may have had a few unintended consequences …”

River looked like she wanted to deck him.”Your experiments? Doctor, are you saying that the Shadows are a virus?”

“Well you could say that.” The Doctor agreed. “Though you’d be completely wrong.”

River’s eyes narrowed as she turned from the Doctor and considered the Shadows. 

“Nanogenes.”  She whispered.

“Yes.” A muscle in his cheek jumped, as he clenched his jaw. “The Shadows are part machine, part virus.”

He swallowed and ran his hand through his hair. 

“I called it a viroborg.” He admitted quietly.

River’s face paled. “You called it that?”

The Doctor nodded.

“One of the perks you know.” He explained. “I invented the thing, I got to name it. Of course no one else ever called it that.”

“You invented the Shadows.” River repeated in disbelief, gripping the balcony railing so hard she could feel the blood leaving her fingers. “But you saved me.”

“Well,” The Doctor jerked his chin at the mob of Converted surrounded by the Shadows, “Relatively speaking. You did save me back so I guess we’re even on that account.”

“That’s what the virophage is for.” River let go of the railing and dropped her hand to the hilt of her knife. 

“You’re trying to find a way to destroy your own creation.” She peered once again at the ring of Shadows.”Or to empower it.”

She stared at the Doctor, her eyes dark and unreadable. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

The Doctor sighed, his expression resigned. 

“Maybe it doesn’t make any difference anymore.” He said wearily. “I don’t have what I need to fix this.”

“Tell me why!” River screamed into his startled face as she shoved him back against the wall, her blade leaving a thin line of blood across his throat, only barely breaking the skin.

“I was a scientist.” The Doctor bit out, his voice crawling with self-loathing. “They called me a genius. They set me up in a lab and gave me everything I wanted and I made things. Things no one had ever seen or maybe even dreamed of. And I never bothered to find what they did with those things after I made them.”

He sagged against the wall and peered into River’s unrelenting gaze. “All I cared about after I got bored with my latest toy was moving on to the next one. I paid no attention to the practical applications of my research. “

“But there are no secrets in a closed facility.” He ran a hand down his face, scrubbing at his jaw. “There were whispers, and eventually they became loud enough that even I heard them. So I went looking.”

“I found hell.” He said brokenly. “And I was the monster who created it.”

“You didn’t know.” River searched his face, unsure what she was looking for.

The Doctor frowned bitterly. “It doesn’t matter River. I should have known. I chose not to look.”

“But you did look.” River reminded him.

The Doctor shook his head. “Only after it was too late.”

River reached out and hesitantly wiped away the blood from the Doctor’s throat as he watched her in shock. She stepped away, leaning over the balcony railing once more.

“Why haven’t they come after us?” She wondered, wiping her knife on her trousers and settling it back within its sheath.

The Doctor eyed her nervously, scratching the back of his neck and trying desperately not to get distracted by the perfection of her waist as it flared into the curve of her bum.

“Yes, well … “He postured, “Apparently the Shadows can’t climb stairs.”

River looked back at him incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“Never knowingly.” He said taking her hand. “But perhaps we should find a place to hide before it learns how. River, run.”

“Wait.” River said, pulling him back into the conference room, “Pack up the lab. We’ll take it with us.”

“River, I told you, it doesn’t matter anymore.” The Doctor barked out, his voice laced with regret and bitterness,” I don’t have what I need to make this work!”

“Sweetie,” River huffed, moving to the table and dismantling equipment, “There’s always a way. Now hurry or I’ll cut you.”

The Doctor grumbled under his breath even as he moved quickly to follow her directions.

“There’s an attic storage space, no windows and a good strong door with access to the roof.” River said as they finished their task. “From there we can climb down the fire escape. That’s probably our best bet.”

The Doctor nodded in agreement, slinging a bag full of equipment over his shoulder. 

“Wait - how do you know that?” He wondered, halting his movements and waiting for her answer.

“Oh Sweetie,” River shrugged, “I know the defensible positions of every building in the city.”

He turned impossibly sad eyes upon her but said nothing, simply nodding.

They both reached automatically for the other’s hand as they ran across the balcony to the next stairway, ignoring the howls of the Converted. The tower was tapered as it rose and each successive level became smaller. As they reached the fifth level, River paused to peer down into the space below. 

“I think they’ve learned Sweetie.”Her face was grim as she watched the Shadows flow slowly and inexorably up the first stairway from the main level.

“Blimey!” The Doctor breathed sounding rather excited, “It must have taken the genetic material the virophage was carrying and incorporated it into its own structure.”

River favored him with a frosty glare. “It’s evolving.”

“Yes! This is amazing River! Nothing like this has ever existed before!” He clapped his hands together gleefully and giggled. 

“I mean,” He said quickly at the look on River’s face, “It’s not actually a good thing.”

River rolled her eyes. 

“And the genetic material?” She asked, a distinct note of warning in her voice, “Where did that come from?”

“Oh,” The Doctor quickly glanced away from her, “Well, yes, that. Well you see that might have been me.”

This time he had to admit that River’s slap was not entirely unexpected.

“You’ve been experimenting on yourself?!” Her words burst out in short bites of fury.

“Yes and ow!” The Doctor said irritably rubbing his sore cheekbone. “Maybe we could talk about this later?”

The Shadows were now on the second step, with a swarm of Converted fighting each other to be the first ones to follow it.

“We’re going to talk about it alright.” River told him sternly, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the next set of stairs.

“I’m beginning to wish you had just killed me.” The Doctor grumbled.

“Still an option Sweetie.” River’s grip tightened as they climbed to the next level. 

A single door was set at the top of the stairs and she shoved it open, hauling him inside and letting go so suddenly he lost his balance, stumbling backward and falling to the floor.

“Help me block the door.” River commanded not looking at him. 

“River …” The Doctor began, leaning back on his hands and sprawling his lanky legs out in front of him.

“Not now!” River hissed glaring at him, the sheen of tears glittering in her eyes.

“OK.” The Doctor agreed quietly, bounding to his feet and twirling to take stock of their surroundings.

The room was small and filled with an odd assortment of things – battered crates and dusty books, a mound of large colorful cushions, broken pieces of furniture and the like. There was a ladder that led up past a loft space surrounded by an open railing to a large hinged skylight in the ceiling.

River grabbed a metal chair and swung it hard against the concrete floor causing the Doctor to jump back in alarm. She pried apart the mangled mess that was left, wedging broken metal slats into the slight gap underneath the door.

She pointed at a lopsided desk that was missing one leg and the Doctor grabbed one side to help her shove it in place. They both circled the space piling random heavy things upon and around the crooked piece of furniture, blocking entrance to the room.

The Doctor eyed River warily as she lined up a row of crates and rummaged through his bag, removing and re-assembling his lab equipment on top of them. She reveled in examining the pieces of complicated technology she held in her hands, not fooled by their makeshift appearance. 

After everything was laid out she stood for several long moments, folding her arms around herself and bowing her head.

“How can you walk in the Shadows?” She said finally, her voice so low the Doctor could barely hear her.

The Doctor sighed and came to stand beside her. He gently placed a hand on her cheek and turned her head towards him.

“I worked in a government lab.” He began, his thumb softly brushing the side of her face. “Yet I tried to tell myself I was above the war, that I had no part in it.”

His shoulders slumped with weariness as he continued. “My research was focused on curing disease, ending hunger, extending life. I avoided politics. I was outside of all that.”

He dropped his eyes and started to turn away but River grabbed his hands, forcing him to face her.

“In reality, I was the center of everything.” The Doctor choked out as River gripped him tighter. “There were hundreds of secretly funded research projects based on my work. My theories and inventions were twisted to serve the most heinous ends.”

“I created viroborgs to inhibit the growth of a plague. Instead someone turned them into a weapon but they didn’t understand the ramifications of their actions.” He tugged at his hands but River refused to let go. 

“The Shadows don’t just kill people they convert them into empty, mindless vessels that exist only to bring the Shadows more humans to feed upon.”

His eyes were bereft, his face drawn with pain, his voice raw and cracking. 

“I saw children …” Suddenly he broke with a sob, shaking uncontrollably as River stood firm, “They used my techniques to repair chromosome abnormalities. They experimented on pregnant women.” 

He stilled, no longer trying to move away. “They grew the perfect soldier - human plus - smarter, stronger, with greater stamina and immune to chemical and infectious agents. They made insanely vicious killing machines – highly trained psychopaths conditioned to destroy anyone outside of their own unit.”

He looked up at her with cold eyes. “I destroyed them River. I could not heal them, I could not reverse the damage and I could not take back what I had started. But I could stop it. I burned through their bases and medical facilities. I found the creators of the program and I ended them. They called me the Oncoming Storm.”

“You’re so beautiful.” He pulled a hand free and let it hover over River’s curls then dropped it to his side. “How did you escape me?”

River gazed back at him with a fierce expression. “You’ve established how I can walk in the Shadows. You still haven’t answered why you can.”

“I don’t tell anyone everything.” The Doctor answered, raising his hand in an appeasing gesture as River showed signs of protest. “I never released my full research – never disclosed all my secrets. After I realized what was happening I invented ways to counteract certain of the more potent weapons my colleagues had created. I wasn’t going to ask anyone else to volunteer so I made myself a guinea pig.”

River eyed him skeptically. “You altered your own DNA? How well did that work?”

“With varying degrees of success.” The Doctor replied drily.

“Is that why you look so young?” River wondered, tracing a finger over his unlined face. “How old are you?”

“Too old.” The Doctor’s breathing caught as River’s finger slid down his nose and traced his lips, then slipped down over his Adam’s apple and rested on his throat.

“Why did you wait to kill me?” He gazed at her calmly, ignoring the knife in her other hand.

“I wanted to know who you were.” River sounded lost, her voice hollow and uncertain. “I wanted to know who I was – why I was. I don’t remember very much, before the city. We were running – everything was burning and we were running.”

River’s face was pale and her voice hesitant as if it were an effort to remember. “Most of us died but a group made it out and for the first time in our lives we didn’t know what to do. There were always voices in our heads, but suddenly they were gone. Madame found us. She brought us to the city. She told us what to do.”

“It’s so strange.” River gave him a pleading look, “How do you live with the silence?”

“You find your own voice.” He told her as he gently tugged on a curl, watching it spring back into place.

Tears slipped from her eyes and glistened on her cheeks. “I need you to die.”

“I know.” He said quietly. “It’s alright. This is my time.”

He closed his eyes.

He heard River’s footsteps as she pulled away and the rustle of her shirt as she lifted her arm.

He felt the whisper of wind as the knife flew past his head and listened to the resounding thump as it buried itself in a box blocking the door behind him.

He cracked one eye open and looked at her in disbelief. “What did you do?”

“Well,” she smiled proudly, “I believe I just got rid of my weapon.”

The Doctor opened his other eye and stared at her. “You can’t do that! No one’s ever broken that kind of programming before! I tried! No one can do that!”

River shrugged. “I believe I just did.”

“But it’s time!” The Doctor argued acting quite put out. ”I’m supposed to die here!”

“Sorry Sweetie.” River replied sounding not the least bit apologetic.

The Doctor flung himself down on the floor with a dramatic flair and crossed his arms and legs, glaring up at her petulantly. 

River laughed at him and jumped on the ladder leading to the loft space above. She was careful to hide the shaking of her hands as she gripped the rungs.

“I’m going to see if there’s anything useful up here.” She called down, taking a deep breath and deliberately wiggling her bum as she climbed.

The Doctor was too entranced to reply, but after she walked to the rear of the loft and disappeared from view he climbed back to his feet and contemplated his lab equipment.

“River,” he called, “You said there were others with you. Where are they?”

“They were converted.” She answered in a small, clipped voice. 

“They were converted …” The Doctor muttered thoughtfully. “Why weren’t you?”

He listened to the sound of River rustling around in the loft above, and tried to work out the problem in his head.

Looking for a distraction, he walked over to the mound of cushions and idly began piling them around him on the floor. He felt restless, needing to do something with his hands while his mind considered what to do next. He hadn’t actually expected to still be alive at this point. It was quite confounding.

“Doctor.” River’s low, honeyed voice wafted down to him from the loft above. He peered up and lost the ability to breathe. She was standing at the railing in a tight black dress that clung to her curves and showed off her ample cleavage. Her bare legs were shapely and muscular, accentuated by the lean lines of the ruby red shoes on her feet.

There was a full moon that night and the glow breaking through the skylight struck her tight blonde curls and golden skin and left her radiant as the sun.

The Doctor was completely unable to stop his arms from reaching out, his hands beckoning to her.

River climbed over the loft railing as the Doctor’s eyes widened in alarm.

“River! Wait!” He called but it was too late. River leapt and tumbled into his waiting arms sending them both careening back into the cushions.

“Are you crazy?!” he hissed, even as he held her tighter against him, afraid that if he let go she would try again.

River laughed against his chest, sending vibrations along his whole body. 

“Yes, according to you.” She smiled, lifting her head and staring up at him with luminous blue-green eyes. “I knew you would catch me.”

“My very own psychopath.” The Doctor whispered, as he gave in and kissed the grin from her lips.  
River hummed softly, opening her mouth and allowing him inside while her hands crept under his shirt, stroking his cool skin.

They lost themselves in sighs and caresses and explored with fingers and tongues, unafraid to touch each other’s scars. Their hearts beat so wildly they felt the echo in the pulse of the other.

“River is a beautiful name.” The Doctor commented a while later as they lay entwined. Her back was pressed against his chest and he cupped one breast as he kissed her bare shoulder.

“I chose it.” River answered sleepily. “We all chose names when we came to the city. It felt like a new beginning, like the past couldn’t hold us anymore.”

“If I were Melody Pond,” she winced as her old name left her lips, her voice cracking, “You would not want to touch me and I could not let you. I was a monster.”

“Circumstance may turn us into monsters,” The Doctor told her gently, threading his fingers through her wild, spiraling hair, “But we can come back.”

He hugged her tightly to him and whispered into her skin. “I have to believe we can come back.”

He sighed as he felt her relax in his arms and drift off.

The Doctor lifted a lock of her hair and brought it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. He separated and pulled at the curl until a thin, golden strand lay in his hand. Clutching his prize he rose from the cushions, careful not to wake River, and placed the hair into a small glass dish sitting next to his lab equipment. 

He dressed quickly, reaching into the pocket of his coat and pulling out his torch and waving it at the dish with a flourish. He peered closely at the DNA strand that revolved in the air before him. A small noise of triumph escaped him and he set to work.  

River’s eyes snapped open and she watched his back, not daring to move. The Doctor bent over the crates, concentrating on something for quite a while then pulled a vial of golden liquid from the inside of his coat and held it up to the moonlight. He worked for a few minutes more then slipped the vial back into his pocket.

River rose to her feet gracefully and slipped on her dress leaving her feet bare. She walked over to the pile of things barring the door and retrieved her knife, slipping it into her bodice. The Doctor turned and grinned at her, gathering her up and whirling her in his arms.

“Doctor! What are you doing?” River laughed as he set her back upon her feet.

“River,” The Doctor replied, cradling her face in his hands. “You are amazing. And you know what? So am I.”

“Doctor, what –“They both jumped at the resounding crash of heavy objects smashing against the concrete floor. The door splintered and waxy, mummified hands reached through the broken wood, grasping and clawing. A low, dry murmur combined with an acrid, chemical stench filtered into the room.

“Use the sonic setting!” River shouted backing away.

“It’s a bit buggy!” The Doctor grabbed River’s hand and tugged her towards him. “I only came up with it a few days ago and it shorted out after the last time.”

“Of course it did.” River responded with an exasperated sigh.

“Oi! I’m working on it! Come on!” The Doctor retorted, grabbing River by the waist and lifting her onto the ladder leading to the roof. 

River looked back at him and hesitated. The Doctor shoved at her bum.”I’m right behind you – hurry!”

River scaled the rungs quickly, pushing against the heavy skylight with all her strength as the rusty hinges complained and groaned. She finally opened it wide enough to haul herself through then turned and offered a hand to the Doctor as he clambered up beside her. He slammed the skylight shut, latching it but unable to find a lock. River reached into the Doctor’s pocket pulling out his torch.

“Wait!” The Doctor exclaimed. “That won’t help!”

River smirked at him and raised the tool high above her head then brought it down hard, leaving the latch twisted and jammed. She pounded it a few more times for good measure before rising to find a look of horror in the Doctor’s eyes as he stared at his mangled torch.

“Sorry Sweetie.” River patted his shoulder apologetically.

“Couldn’t be helped I suppose.” The Doctor mumbled, taking the remains of his torch from her and sadly returning it to his pocket.

He grabbed River’s hand and spun around, startled to find a lone, emaciated figure crouched at the edge of the roof. A pool of Shadow curled around its feet.  It looked similar to the Converted but not the same, as if the process had been halted part way through, giving it a sunken appearance with folds of dry, leathery skin hanging from its ruined body. It was clad in black rags, and one side of its face bore a mass of raised scar tissue, fusing the eyelid shut. It did not approach them but simply stood, cocking its head and moving its jaws as if trying to remember how to speak. 

“Madame?” River started in shock, leaning into the Doctor’s side.

“Melody Pond.” The thing croaked out in a dry, diseased voice. “You are not the creator. You will be converted.”

“What are you?” The Doctor demanded, gripping River’s hand tightly.

“We are the Shadows.” The thing replied. “We use this vessel to speak as you have yet to give us voice.”

“Blimey.” The Doctor breathed.

“Doctor,” River growled, keeping watch on the thing but glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. “Just what exactly were you thinking when you conducted your bloody experiments?”

“I didn’t know it was going to do this!” The Doctor retorted defensively. “OK the virophage was weak, a long shot at best. I assumed the Shadows would just kill it not use it to make talking half-dead people!”

“Frankly,” River hissed, “Knowing that you used your own genetic material I’m not surprised at all!”

“You are the Doctor.” The thing rasped, ignoring the bickering, “You are the creator. You must be preserved. The Shadows serve the creator. The creator serves the Shadows.”

“I am not!” The Doctor looked outraged. “I invented viroborgs not creepy shadow things!”

“You are not the creator.” The thing repeated, shambling forward menacingly. “You will be converted.”

“Sweetie!” River said through clenched teeth, shoving the Doctor behind her. “The next time someone calls you a god – you say you’re a god!”

“Wait!” The Doctor said, pushing River out of the way and spreading his hands wide in a placating gesture. “You’re alive. We’re communicating. You don’t need to do this! I can help you!”

“You are not the creator.” The thing batted at the Doctor, knocking him off his feet. “You will not be preserved.”

River’s scream of rage tore through the air as she leapt; pounding at the thing’s misshapen head. It threw her off and just as she was able to stand it lunged, grabbing River’s throat and dragging her forward and up so that her feet were left scrabbling for the ground. River struggled wildly, punching its arm, prying at its iron grip with desperate hands and kicking at its stomach and legs. She choked and began to stiffen as the air left her aching lungs.

“No!” The Doctor cried pulling at River frantically, “I am the creator! Listen to me! Let her go!”

Suddenly he found himself down on bloody knees as the Converted broke through the skylight and grabbed him. He cried out as his shinbones broke beneath their crushing grip. River spat in the face of the thing as it lifted her over its head and smashed her flailing body against the ground. She lay on her side unmoving as a pool of red spread from beneath her matted curls.

“River!” The Doctor’s unearthly howl of pain and anger echoed across the roof top and down into the city below.

The thing looked startled, running its crooked fingers over the sunken skin of its ravaged face. 

“I am Madam.” The thing trembled, peering around wildly, “I am Shadow. I am Madam.”

It looked down at River’s body. “Melody?”

It gazed at the Doctor beseechingly. “Help me.” It whined shuffling backwards, away from the seeping blood.

“Tell them to let me go.” The Doctor face was grim.

The thing nodded its head, making a mewling sound at the Converted who dropped their hands. The Doctor crawled painfully to River’s side cradling her in his arms. 

“I’m sorry my dear.” He rocked her and wept, tears dripping down his chin, “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Help me.” The thing repeated, “Melody Pond doesn’t matter. The Shadows are coming.”

“Her name is River.” The Doctor’s voice was low and angry as he reached into his coat and brought out the vial of golden liquid, “She matters more than anything. She is the woman who saved the world.” 

He dropped the vial just as he withdrew River’s knife from her bodice and plunged it into his chest. He gasped, clutching River to him and smiling through the agony as the thick glass shattered against the concrete releasing the specially engineered viroborgs the vial contained. He slumped against River, his eyes on her face, his hand stroking her cheek as his life ebbed away. His eyes closed and his head dropped to her shoulder as a swarm of tiny, glowing orbs filled the rooftop. They hovered above the Doctor and River for a moment and then descended, sinking down into their cold, gray skin.

Instantly the rooftop exploded in a burst of ferocious energy. Flames leapt into the sky as viroborgs rained down the sides of the Library and raced through the city programmed to search out a specific kind of host. They invaded the Shadows, feeding upon them like parasites until their genetic structure was so weakened it fell apart. The viroborgs moved on, their unabiding hunger forcing them to leave the city and spread out over the continent and then the world hunting the Shadows until none remained. Unable to survive without a host they in turn shriveled and died. 

The Converted roamed, mindless and lost. Without the Shadows to direct them they turned on each other, ripping their bodies apart until nothing was left. Silence descended over the city, and it lay empty for a very long while.


	7. AFTERWARD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who were lucky enough to come upon the “Lady in the Library” were said to be gifted with the promise of an undying love. They spoke of a shining beauty crowned with a wild mane of untamed curls that flickered briefly into being only to fade away too soon. She was most often seen in the ground floor reading room, her delicate hand tracing reverentially over the spines of the books.

The city was rediscovered as time overwhelmed even the war’s most haunted places. A new generation built upon the ashes of the old as past horrors faded into memory. It was decided that the Library tower should be restored and left standing as a monument to the power of art and knowledge over the forces of greed and destruction.

People spoke reverently of the legendary guardians of the city – two spirits, a man and a woman. The male guardian was said to appear wherever children were in need. People never agreed upon his face but he was described as a being of shimmering, golden energy. He did not stay long and was never whole, his visage pale and transparent. The ones who encountered him were not always changed for the better but they were forever changed.

Those who were lucky enough to come upon the “Lady in the Library” were said to be gifted with the promise of an undying love. They spoke of a shining beauty crowned with a wild mane of untamed curls that flickered briefly into being only to fade away too soon. She was most often seen in the ground floor reading room, her delicate hand tracing reverentially over the spines of the books.

It took many years for the Library project to be finished and each level was opened to the public upon completion. The day the final restoration came to an end was one of celebration throughout the city. The Library was topped with a glass dome that emitted a clear, pure glow – a beacon for truth and beauty that bestowed its guiding light upon the entire city. In the center of the dome was a small glass box housing two artifacts found while excavating the attic room and the roof – a small yet thick blue book filled with words and images of horror and hope, and a long span of ragged silk thought to be an item of clothing, perhaps some sort of cravat or tie. The book was opened to its center page and the silk was draped artfully across it.

It was quiet under the dome later that night. The last celebrant had gone home and the full moon beamed down upon the objects displayed so earnestly beneath the glass. At first the soft shimmer that materialized within the box appeared as a trick of light. But then it grew brighter until it seemed the rays of the sun were pouring forth from ancient paper and cloth. Glowing, golden orbs rose from the two objects and shot through the sides of the box, shattering the glass and enclosing the artifacts within a small, shining sphere. 

The air on one side of the box glittered and sparked, coalescing into the form of a lanky, floppy-haired man.

On the other side of the display a bright flare of golden light burst forth into the shape of a beautiful, wild-haired woman.

The two figures gazed at each other yearningly and the man raised his arm as if reaching out for the woman across a great distance. The woman smiled sadly, her curls glimmering with incandescent light.

“Oh my love,” The tiny whisper of the woman’s voice was like trickling water over well-worn pebbles. “We can’t touch. We’re just leftover energy – a bit of time and memory.” 

The man frowned, shaking his head fiercely. He thrust his arm through the shining sphere his hand in the center, his long fingers desperately stretching, begging for hers. The woman sighed but could not deny herself or him even the ghost of a touch. So she stepped closer, her small hand pushing through the sphere and meeting his. 

It was said later, in epic stories handed down from each generation to the next, that the blinding radiance that erupted from the Library dome that night bathed the whole world in golden light. It lasted only a moment, and when it receded two people stood on the Library rooftop, their hands resting upon a book, their fingers entwined together around a soft piece of silk.

“How?” River asked, unable to move for fear this was some kind of tortured dream that would end as soon as she turned her head away.

The Doctor grinned and tugged her forward giggling. “Triple helix DNA River!” 

He beamed, taking her face in his hands and kissing her with such intensity they forgot how to breathe. 

River pulled away from him reluctantly, gasping for air. “The book and the bow tie … they had our DNA on them. And they touched.”

“Yes my clever, brilliant, amazing River!” The Doctor laughed, taking her in his arms and dancing around the rooftop. “I’m a genius!”

“Well I see dying hasn’t done anything for your ego.” River remarked drily.

“But we didn’t die River!” The Doctor argued cheerfully. “Well technically we did but we didn’t have to stay dead. We regenerated!”

River wrapped her arms around herself and stepped away from him. “I remember being lost, flickering in and out of existence. Sometimes I was in the Library but other times there was nothing.” She shuddered.

“I’m so sorry, my dear.” The Doctor took her hands in his, holding them to his chest. “We’re something entirely new River.”

River narrowed her eyes and frowned at him.

“I altered my DNA – added a third strand.” He beamed at her with a smug grin. “I suspected the same had been done to you when I saw you could walk in the Shadows. That third strand adds new code. When our cells die that isn’t the end - they are rewritten, given new life.”

River rolled her eyes. “No offense sweetie but the process seems a bit dodgy.”

“Oi! Respect the process!” The Doctor bopped her nose with a finger and pulled at a curl. “OK I wasn’t expecting the explosion and our atoms were scattered.  We’ve spent all this time trying to re-form so it took a little longer than I planned. We each held pieces of the other – and we needed to touch in order to be complete.”

River stared at him. “I can’t decide if it’s comforting or terrifying that you’re just as insane as I am.”

The Doctor’s face lit up as he smiled at her proudly. “We’re not exactly the same – but I was able to combine our genetic information to engineer a more powerful virophage and use the nanogenes I was carrying to deliver it. Without you the Shadows would still be here.”

River delicately touched the side of his face, her fingers trailing down his cheek. “Who are you?”

The Doctor looked startled. “You know who I am.”

River shook her head, curls flying. “I know who you want me to think you are. You know my name – who I am now but also who I was before. They’re both me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” The Doctor said, the shadow of fear crossing his face, “I’m the Doctor now.”

River placed her hands on his chest, the beats of his heart speeding up under her fingers, and looked up at him with a clear and steady gaze. “It does matter my love. If you keep running away from who you were you might forget and become him again.”

“I haven’t said it.” The Doctor grasped River’s arms tightly, “Not since the day I started running – so very long ago. I can’t – I can’t tell anyone.”

“Am I just anyone?” River whispered.

The Doctor looked down at her beautiful face, so different from the first time he’d seen her. Her expression was raw and open, as if her faith in him were the only thing she had left to cling to.

He drew in a huge breath of air, letting it out with a whoosh as he squared his shoulders. 

He buried his hands in her hair and pulled her close. Parting his lips over hers, he whispered his name into her waiting mouth.


End file.
